All These Things We Hold Dear
by silentlullabye
Summary: There are many objects in the NCIS universe that hold special meaning to the characters and their relationships. These are but a few.
1. The Desk of Special Agent Caitlyn Todd

All These Things We Hold Dear

An NCIS Fanfic.

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><p>The Desk of Special Agent Caitlyn Todd<p>

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><p>There was no way to pretend that her desk would ever seat her again. She was dead forever. She wasn't going to walk into work tomorrow morning dressed as always in her pantsuit, sit at her desk, and then begin working on something.<p>

She would never enter the office for the very first time and be pointed in the direction of the empty desk next to Gibbs. She would never find the surprise Tony left her in the chair. It actually was a nice surprise.

She would never sit in her chair and throw carrots at Tony's head, whilst dodging flying food from his side of the Bullpen.

She would never sit down only to be confronted by McGee, who is lying under her computer, "upgrading it."

She would never look up and smile at Gibbs and say good morning.

She would never silently speculate Gibbs' relationship status with the mysterious redhead with Tony.

And for all these things, they held on dearly. Everything she had ever done was her last. There would never be a new moment to hold on to. Nothing would be the same.

The one thing that they could keep the same was her desk. Everything on its surface would be forever in perfect order; never a pencil out of place, or a paper not filed into its correct folder. The drawers would forever be neat and organized, free of clutter, and filled with her secrets.

That is why Cassidy cannot sit in her desk. This is not allowed, nor will it ever be. Her desk must remain pure, untouched, just as she left it.

That is why Ziva is not allowed at her desk. Nothing can be moved. The boat must not be rocked. The memories must not be disturbed.

Except, as Gibbs discovers, they cannot forever keep her desk just as she left it. The idea is unrealistic and shows just how attached they all still remain with her memory. The desk is a thing. They can associate all the memories and feelings of loss with it that they want, but at the end of the day the desk is a thing. It has no feelings or hopes or dreams. It does not contain the essence that was Caitlyn Todd. Caitlyn Todd is dead.

And no matter how cliché it may sound, the only way to truly keep her alive is to remember.

And to move.

And so Ziva takes a seat. They reluctantly allow this.

It is time for some new memories.

The old will never be forgotten.

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><p>AN: This is the first story I have planned in the things series. Each chapter will deal with important objects in the NCIS universe, and the impact said objects have on the characters and events.

I'm rewatching episodes, so the list of possibilities for this series continues to grow. If you know of an object that you would like to see written about, please let me know and I'll see what I can do.

Thanks for reading and pretty please drop me a note and tell me what you think!

sl

**Disclaimer: NCIS is the property of Donald P. Bellisario and Don McGill.**


	2. The Bow Tie of Doctor Donald Mallard

All These Things We Hold Dear

An NCIS Fanfic.

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><p>The Bow Tie of Doctor Donald Mallard<p>

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><p>His dear mother had given him his very first bow tie, on his sixteenth birthday. He was to wear it to his party, she told him, and look like a very distinguished young man. It was made of silk, in a deep shade of navy. She had had to tie it on for him after he had fumbled with it for almost half an hour.<p>

Several of his party guests had commented on it, complimenting the quality and the color, asking if it was a gift and where he had gotten it.

These days, however, they had quite gone out of fashion in everyday use. No, young men these days preferred neck ties that hung to their navels and got in the way whenever one wanted to bend for something or reach for something. Ducky had no use for such trite nonsense. He was a medical examiner and could not have something as simple as a neck tie getting in the way of his work.

His mother still bought him a bow tie, every year on his birthday. Well, except for the past two years, during which he was lucky that she still knew what a bow tie was.

Those he was closest to accepted the bow tie as a part of his signature style. The bow tie was Ducky and he was the bow tie. Abby said it made him look dapper and dashing, and Tony had once commented that he looked like he'd just stepped from a 1930's film noir.

He had a whole drawer full of ties now, in every fabric, color, and style imaginable. He tried to wear each one at least once a year. There were a particular few that he was more attached to. The navy tie from his mother was worn often, and was now rather worn and frail looking, not unlike himself. Abby had hand stitched a bow tie out of what she had claimed was a vintage flapper dress. He had baulked at the idea until she had shown it to him and he was positively sure it no longer represented the garment. In fact it was quite lovely, although the stitching was a bit askew. It was a rich red, and on the inner curves of the bow there were a few remaining sequins; just enough so that the tie was unique without drawing too much attention.

The morning he buried his mother, Ducky buried the bow tie she had given him with her. He would never be able to wear it again without his heart breaking, and he wanted to let her know how very much he had always cared for her.

No one came to the funeral. No one was invited. No one knew.

And then they did. It was, surprisingly, Ziva who first noticed the long neck tie around his neck. It was a dower gray, very dull. It was her intuition that allowed the team to learn of Ducky's loss.

They had encouraged him to continue wearing his bow ties; that his mother would be very cross if she knew he had stopped because of her.

So he did. But then one day, Ziva appeared in autopsy, alone, carrying a small box. Mr. Palmer was down in the evidence garage with Abby, so Ducky sat alone at his desk.

The box was a present, she claimed, to welcome him back into himself. (Or so, that is what Ducky supposed she meant. Several idioms had been mangled in her short speech.)

Inside the box, shrouded in tissue paper was a bow tie. A navy blue, silk, bow tie. Ducky tried to prevent himself from falling to pieces. At first he wondered if somehow she knew he had buried it with mother, that she had managed to dig it back up, for how could she know?

But she just smiled. "You wear this one the most. When we were in your home, I saw your collection and this one was missing. I thought you might have lost it, so I found you another."

Ducky felt a gentle tear slide down his cheek.

"How very kind of you, Ziva. Thank you." He took off the brown bow tie he was currently wearing and slipped on Ziva's gift. She smiled.

"You look very distinguished, Doctor." He smiled up at her, and she continued to smile back.

She placed a small kiss on the top of his head and quietly left the room.

Ducky watched his reflection in the flat metal that comprised his desk top.

She was right. They were both right. It was very distinguishing.

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><p>AN: So here is chapter two of this series. I have quite a few ideas for this story, but if you guys know of a particular object you would like to see featured, let me know. I always wanted Ducky's mother to make more appearances other than the few episodes she was in. In my opinion, she stole every scene. It is very tragic that she had dementia, as I have a grandparent who also has it, and I know he will eventually be like her. She was a nice lady, that Mrs. Mallard.

Please review and let Mrs. Mallard know you miss her!

sl

**Disclaimer: NCIS is the property of Donald P. Bellisario and Don McGill.**


	3. The Mighty Mouse Stapler of Tony DiNozzo

All These Things We Hold Dear

An NCIS Fanfic

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><p>The Mighty Mouse Stapler of Anthony DiNozzo, Jr.<p>

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><p>"<em>Wow, a stapler."<br>_"_Enjoy."  
><em>"_What is that?"  
><em>"_Mighty Mouse."  
><em>"_Mighty Mouse?"  
><em>"_Found it at a garage sale. It's all I can afford on my salary."  
><em>"_Very sweet of you, sir."  
><em>"_Yeah, don't mention it."_

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><p>It wasn't as though no one had ever retired from NCIS before; hundreds had over the years, while others gave their lives for the job. However on Tony DiNozzo's last day on the job everyone acted as though he was dying. He received a total of fifty-seven farewell cards from various personnel, two flower arrangements from secretaries on the second floor, and enough food to feed him for the next three days. Tony decided to keep the cards, donate the food, and place the flowers on Ducky's grave when he got the chance.<p>

People begged him to stay another year but he was going to be sixty-six this year and he thought it was high time he left to enjoy the rest of his time on this earth. Abby and her trainee, Katherine, wished him fond farewells and Abby promised to have lunch with him soon. They had discussed whether or not Abby would retire with him but Tony had convinced her not too. NCIS needed her, he had told her.

The new director personally thanked him for his countless years of service and dedication to the organization. McGee gave him a long hug and Tony didn't care if that was weird or not. Ziva promised to have dinner with him (Tony asked if she would mind not bringing along her hubby). Palmer made a trip upstairs to wish him good luck.

After all the goodbyes were said it was time to pack up his desk and bid one final farewell to his home for the past four decades or so of his life. Agents moved around him carrying on their tasks as if the day was like any other. He liked that, liked knowing that everything would carry on without him; he had left enough marks on the world.

There wasn't much on his desk, really. Paperwork for someone else to file away; pens and other office supplies. The computer was the property of NCIS so that would be staying. Tony packed up his all the medals he had received over the years, as well as the many he had accepted on behalf of others. The space seemed sparse with nothing on it, no clutter or useless paper.

Just memories and regrets, hopes and losses, dreams and laughter.

He didn't have a use for most of the stuff. He gave his office supplies to Ziva and Tim. He let Abby have some of the junk that had been accumulating for years; useless stuff like a really old yo-yo, a deck of cards, the cleaner magazines (she was going through a collage stage right now). The dirty ones he gave to Tim just to startle him.

Then there was the stapler. It was coming in on forty years old now and the paint was chipping off. It no longer stapled and the springs inside were rusty. Tony was positive that no one knew who Mighty Mouse was anymore. It was useless and only took up space but Tony had held onto it because of the memories attached, because of the value it held to him.

The stapler had been with him every day on the job here. It had seen his rookie days when he carried all the baggage to every crime scene. It had borne the bruises of his time as Head Agent as well as the painful transition back to subordinate. It had seen the tears of losing Jeanne and losing Kate and losing Paula. It watched the rise and fall of Tony DiNozzo, every single month and year and event. If he believed in that sort of stuff he would say the stapler probably had its own karmic energy after all it had seen.

But the stapler didn't belong in his box of packed things. Yes it had memories, some he would cherish and others he wished to forget. But Tony didn't need it in the next stage of his life. The stapler was NCIS. Sure he had gotten it back in Baltimore but it had spent only a short time there before transitioning with Tony to NCIS. The stapler belonged here and that was where it would stay.

He sat it back down on the empty desk top and hoisted up his box and walking to the elevator. Perhaps the next person to sit in that desk would enjoy the stapler that didn't work but had a fading colored cartoon on it. Then again, maybe not.

The point was to leave it behind. And move forward.

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><p>AN: Okay, not sure how I feel about this and I may come back and do major edits when the mood strikes me. For now I will post it and let you guys give some feedback on it. Let me know, ok? :)

sl

**Disclaimer: NCIS is the property of Donald P. Bellisario and Don McGill.**


	4. The Star of David Necklace of Ziva David

All These Things We Hold Dear

An NCIS Fanfic.

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><p>The Star of David Necklace of Ziva David<p>

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><p>She could still remember the look on her mother's face as she opened the tiny birthday present. Ziva's mother was, at the time, more excited about Ziva receiving the present than Ziva herself was.<p>

She had obediently held up her hair so that her mother could fasten the silver chain around her neck, letting the tine Star fall on her collarbone. It was too big for her but Rivka didn't mind, telling Ziva that she would grow into it as she grew into a young Jewish woman.

Ziva hadn't understood at the time all that the Star of David stood for. How it was a sacred symbol to Israel as well as to all Jewish people. How is stood for ideals so strong that wars sparked and people died in the dust.

She would not understand until after she was free from her father's hand. Not until the night she sat and sang over the dead body of her beloved brother and realized the many secrets her father kept, even from her.

Ari's actions were not just or right, but he was adamant that Eli David was not as innocent as he appeared. Ziva only wished her brother had said more before he died.

Working for NCIS allowed her to gain an outside perspective of the wars her people fought as well as the war she fought with herself. To be loyal to her father or loyal to Gibbs, who was more of a father than Eli David would ever be? She didn't know the answer.

Sometimes she would sit and her hands would absentmindedly fiddle with the star, pressing the points into her fingertips, warming the metal in her palms. In a way it made her who she was, it gave her identity.

Which is why she felt so very empty when her Somalian attackers ripped it from her throat and tossed it in the dust. More than the torture this act took away her last ounce of dignity. She was bruised and beaten, but until then she at least had whatever strength she could draw from her Star.

But then Tony showed up to rescue her and she forgot the emptiness. She had people who cared about her, who loved her. They were her family now. They were her identity.

Upon her return to NCIS she took to wearing a simple gold chain that had belonged to Jenny Shepherd. Jenny had given it to her as a gift when they had worked together in Cairo.

It didn't hold the same weight as her Star had but it reminded her of the growing she had done, her realization that the Star itself had only been a physical manifestation of who Ziva was as a person.

Ziva had fully accepted her new life without it.

Until Abby showed up on her doorstep with a small box. Ziva had watched Abby's face as her fingers opened it. Inside, sure enough, was a small Star of David on a silver chain. It was smaller than her old one, but still similar. Ziva had had no words except one.

"Why?"

Abby gave her a tight hug right in the doorway where they stood. Her words were muffled by Ziva's hair. "Because you're not you without it."

It didn't click in Ziva's mind until then that even though she had accepted her life without her Star, the others had not accepted Ziva's acceptance. They wanted the old Ziva back, with her rough and tough exterior but an inside of fragile innocence. They needed the physical manifestation of the Star because to them it represented something different than it did for Ziva.

To them it represented Ziva as they knew and loved her. Ziva as a whole and not just the sum of her parts. Ziva as Ziva.

So she gladly lifted up her hair and allowed Abby to fasten the silver chain around her neck.

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><p>AN: So I haven't updated this in a while. Eek! But anyways this was requested but I can't for the life of me remember who requested it. But you know who you are and I hope you like it!

Please leave me a lovely review. They make me smile!

sl

**Disclaimer: NCIS is the property of Donald P. Bellisario and Don McGill.**


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